Elephants Galore
by AntaresTheEighthPleiade
Summary: In which Odin is cryptic, Frigga makes a friend, and Thor just wants to know what's going on. AU in which Loki does not go nuts.


Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't own anything. I don't even own a copy of _Avengers _(though I do have the _Thor _DVD).

* * *

"Elephants Galore"

Or, "The Most Awkward 'Family' Dinner in the History of Forever"

"I'm sorry, Mother. I seem to have misheard. I could have sworn you just said that we're having Laufey over for dinner."

"Yes, dear." Frigga's knitting needles clacked together. "We are indeed having Laufey and Farbauti for dinner."

Thor was not, despite his brother's claims, a stupid man. Simple, uncomplicated, arrogant, and blind to his own faults, yes, but not stupid. Nonetheless, he was having a bit of trouble processing his mother's words. "We are…_eating_ them?" Because odd as that was, it was still less bizarre than the other possible meaning of 'having someone for dinner.'

"Thor!" Frigga stopped knitting, her eyes wide with horror. "We do _not eat_ jotnar!"

"Well," mumbled her chagrined son, "we don't have them as dinner guests either." The absurdity of his statement reached his brain. "We're having Laufey and what's-her-face-"

"Queen Farbauti," Frigga supplied.

"—as _dinner guests?_" Thor's voice climbed an octave and a half as he spoke. By his last word, he was almost as high in pitch as Sif.

"Yes." Frigga resumed her knitting.

Thor's mouth worked up and down in a manner vaguely reminiscent of a fish. Finally he managed to sputter out, "_Why?_"

"I have my reasons," Frigga assured him. "Now go change into something more formal and try not to cause another inter-realm incident. Poor Loki just finished cleaning up the last one." A frown creased her brow. "Thor, have you seen Loki lately?"

Good, a subject that wasn't _completely insane._ "No. I have not seen him since the day of my banishment." A banishment that was technically still ongoing but had been 'temporarily postponed' for an 'important engagement,' which was apparently code talk for 'dinner with our worst enemies and I'm not even allowed to kill them.'

"I must find him then," Frigga murmured. She finished her last two stitches before setting aside her knitting (Thor vaguely noted that it looked like another sweater. His mother liked sweaters) and striding purposefully out the door.

Thor didn't know how long he stayed there gawking at the closed door, his jaw ajar, his mind completely off-kilter. Eventually the sound of someone opening the other door shocked him out of his stupor. The prince turned, met the gaze of a wide-eyed maid.

"Prince Thor, there are… there are…." The maid gulped.

"I know."

"But—but _why?_"

"That I know not." He started. How long had he been standing there like an idiot? "I must make haste." He thought of Mjolnir, stuck in the New Mexico desert. Oh, what he would _give_ to feel the hammer's comforting weight at his side again. "But fear not. I will not permit the beasts to harm anyone of Asgard."

He changed into his best set of armor for the dinner—not the finery he'd worn at his botched coronation, but the armor he wore on adventures in the other worlds. Hopefully it would keep his weak, still-mortal form safe from the jotnar's cold touch. If not… well, he had faith in the healers' abilities.

He ran into Loki (even paler than he'd ever been before, which was saying something) and Frigga on the way across the city. Odin hadn't wanted to let the jotnar into his palace (good. At least one person hadn't completely lost his mind), so they were to meet Laufey and what's-her-face in a guesthouse at the edge of the city. Thor had supped there before when it had been appropriated by a group of visiting dwarven craftsmen. He recalled that it had a lovely view of the Bifrost and furniture that automatically resized itself according to its occupants' heights. That was probably why they'd chosen it—the furniture, that is, not the Bifrost.

His parents and brothers waited by the entrance to the dining hall. Thor noted that none of them were dressed in armor. Oh dear. "At least tell me you are armed."

Frigga frowned at him in a way that made him flash back to his childhood when he'd been caught doing something naughty. "_Thor_. This is a peaceful gathering."

"We have magic," Loki sighed. "And I doubt that they would harm… us." Someone who hadn't known Loki for centuries would have missed his slight pause, his tiny hesitation. That person wouldn't have noticed the exhaustion in his tone, the slight slump of his shoulders, the new quality—sorrow, disillusionment, and other things that Thor could not recognize—in his now-dull green eyes.

By the Tree, what had _happened_ during his banishment?

"Brother, are you well?"

"Unfortunately." Loki grimaced. "I was just at the infirmary having Eir check me over for signs of insanity. She could not find any."

"Because you are not mad, my son," said Frigga in the too-patient tone of one who has repeated herself many times and was giving up hope that she would ever be believed. "And yes, I am absolutely positive."

Loki looked almost disappointed that he was still sane. Thor understood how he felt, for if he was mad, then there wouldn't be frost giants (frost giants!) in the next room. Or, if there were, he would at least be allowed to kill them.

Odin shifted. "Come, Thor, Frigga. We must not keep our…guests… waiting."

"What of Loki?" Thor asked.

"I am to enter by myself."

Well, that made no sense. Thor wasn't a politician (it was Loki who negotiated treaties on their trips to other realms, Loki who kept Thor from causing too many inter-realm incidents, Loki who filled out paperwork, Loki who dealt with the complications caused by his brother's hunts and epic quests; Thor was the one who adventured and battled and shone), but he knew that when facing an enemy, it was always best to present a united front. It made no sense to divide themselves, especially when Laufey and what's-her-face had to know that Loki was to come in later.

Not that anything about this made sense.

"_Why?"_

Frigga rested a hand on her elder son's shoulder. "Your brother is the… guest of honor."

"…Because he stopped the war with Jotunheim?" Thor paused. "How did you do that anyways, brother?"

"Wergild for the dead in the form of several new species of crops," Loki replied shortly. "Famine prevention."

"Wergild?" Thor repeated. Wergild was for people, not jotnar.

Loki glanced down at his hand, clutched it into a fist. Sorrow flickered across his face, deepened the hollowness in his eyes. "And… sentiment."

"Your brother did a brave thing," Odin declared. He graced his younger son with a small, sad smile. "I am proud of you, my son."

The trickster swallowed hard. A muscle in his neck jumped. He lowered his head, eyes hidden.

"And now I must ask you to be brave once more." Odin nodded towards the door, towards the frost giants.

"Of course." It was a credit to the Liesmith's skill that his voice was level. Once again, Thor wondered what had happened during his banishment—and why his friends hadn't mentioned it to him.

The three members of the royal family strode into the dining chamber. One wall was a window; the view in it, the Bifrost in all its glory, was just as spectacular as Thor remembered. The other walls were simple marble, uncarved, with columns and arches at the doors. And there, sitting at the enormous table in the center of the room, were the two frost giants.

Thor's finger's twitched. He sent out a mental call to Mjolnir. It was futile, yes, and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. The sight of jotun royalty sitting casually (all right, not so casually. They were stiff, their heads held high, shoulders tight, clad in what must pass for finery in Jotunheim) in Aesir territory made him want to hit something. Preferably the jotun royalty.

Odin gave him a Look.

No one else stood in the chamber. No guards, no servants. The table had been set, covered with an intricately embroidered tablecloth, but the food had not arrived. Just wine in the jotnar's cups.

"King Laufey. Queen Farbauti." Odin inclined his head for a moment before sliding into his chair at the head of the table. His chair—and three other chairs that Thor presumed were for the other Aesir—was perched on a terraced platform, just high enough that they didn't have to reach overmuch for the magically heightened table. It had adjusted itself to the frost giants' heights, not the size of its owners. To Thor, it seemed like even the tables were against him.

"King Odin. Queen Frigga." Laufey's jaw tightened. "Prince Thor." Red eyes shifted. Something peculiar entered the jotun king's tone, something like… longing? "And Prince Loki."

What's-her-face, whose name was evidently Farbauti, shifted in her chair.

Loki strode into the room, face blank. He took his place between Thor and Laufey without looking at either of them. Unfortunately, his insistence on looking straight ahead meant that he found himself looking at the jotun queen, who stared back at him without blinking.

Thor looked from the jotun to his brother and couldn't hold back his gasp. All eyes turned to him, red and blue and green. The elder prince flushed but did not apologize. Not to jotnar. Not even if one of those jotnar looked uncannily like a large, blue, female version of Loki. Not a perfect resemblance—her nose was a bit narrower, her chin more rounded, her features a touch more feminine. And of course the whole frost giant thing. But the resemblance was there. Something about it made the hairs on Thor's neck stand on end.

Something had changed. Something fundamental, something that would continue to reverberate throughout Asgard, something that would ripple outwards. The thought of it filled him with a nameless dread.

No. Enough of this. There were enemies present, even if his family had lost their minds and invited those enemies over for dinner. He was a prince of Asgard, heir to the throne. He was a warrior, mortal or not, and he would _not_ show them his fear.

Silence stretched on. A trembling servant entered the room, poured wine into Thor's goblet. He did not drink it. No sense in getting intoxicated. Odin, though, took a sip from his own cup before inquiring, "You made the journey without incident?"

No answer.

Thor turned to the jotnar, preparing to chide them for ignoring the Allfather in his own territory. The protest died in his throat.

Laufey and Farbauti were staring intently at Loki, their red eyes shining with an unidentifiable fire. Part pain, part anger, part longing, part… Thor didn't know what. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. He really didn't like it.

_Brother, what bargain did you make with them that they look at you so?_

To his credit, Loki was doing a very good job of ignoring them both. His eyes were fixed on the window, on the view of the Bifrost. It really was lovely this time of year. It was almost captivating enough for Loki to pretend that he wasn't studiously avoiding looking at the visiting frost giants.

Thor glanced to his left, to his father. Odin's face bore an expression of… guilt?... as he stared at the jotnar.

The servant who had poured their wine returned, glanced into everybody's cups. He blanched upon noticing that Laufey's goblet needed refilling. Wide-eyed and obviously terrified, his hand trembling so much that the wine nearly spilled out across the floor, he approached the jotun king. Laufey, who still had his intense red eyes fixed on Loki (who had his own intense gaze fixed on the conveniently located Bifrost), didn't seem to notice. Good—the servant spilled a bit as he poured, the wine soaking into the tablecloth. He gave a tiny whimpering noise. Thor tried to smile at him, to silently reassure him, to promise that everything would be all right, but he did not think his attempt very successful. The servant fled.

The silence was becoming unbearable. Thor was a loud man and honest; he could remain quiet during hunts, but not when his brother was sitting next to the King of Jotunheim and across from its Queen, not when he could practically taste the tension in the air.

"So. Brother." Was there an echo in this room? Surely not. It wasn't anywhere near large enough, and the acoustics didn't fit. Nonetheless, Thor felt like his words bounced off the walls, filling the room with more than he had intended.

Loki turned his head. "Yes?"

Thor forced himself to pretend that he couldn't see Laufey's hulking blue silhouette behind his brother's narrow frame, tried to convince himself that this was just another family dinner. 'Tried' being the key word.

"How is…" Oh, wait. That might offend the giants, turn them violent. "I mean…." Nope, couldn't continue that line of thought. Same result. "That is to say…." Was there _anything_ that wouldn't potentially spark an inter-realm incident? "Are you hungry?"

_Lame, Thor. Very lame_. The chiding voice in his head sounded rather like that of Darcy Lewis.

"A bit." Loki leaped on the opportunity to break the silence, to focus on Thor instead of the view. A person who could talk back was a much better distraction than the Bifrost, no matter how lovely the Rainbow Bridge was this time of year. "I assume that you are hungrier than I am. You usually are." Green eyes flickered in Farbauti's direction. Loki continued, "Though neither of us is quite as bad as Volstagg. He has been trying to beat his old record again."

"Only a bit, brother?" Thor's voice was much too loud but he couldn't bring himself to care. When would the next wave of servants arrive with their first course? _Anything_ to make the frost giants stop _staring_. "But you are so thin, even smaller than you were before. You must eat more!" Especially since eating would give him, too, something else to focus on.

"Do you take issue with… Loki's size?" Farbauti's voice was sharp like a knife, as deadly and quick as a whip. The queen leaned across the table, hands folded, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Of course not," Thor protested, stung. And disturbed. He'd seen that searching, watchful, suspicious expression on Loki's face more times than he could count. That familiar expression did not belong on the visage of a jotun. "I merely meant that he seems to have lost weight since-" He cut himself off. Bringing up his banishment, the punishment for his disastrous excursion to Jotunheim, was probably not the most politic idea.

"Since he became king," Frigga interjected smoothly. Thor beamed at his mother, sitting across from him at Odin's left hand. "He has been very busy."

"Since he sat on the throne of Asgard." Laufey _smirked_, leaning across the table. And that smirk made Thor's heart skip a beat, because it was so much like _Loki_ when he had pulled off a particularly funny prank. "Not Thor, but Loki ruling over the Aesir." By the Tree, was that _pride _in Laufey's voice?

"Only temporarily," Loki mumbled.

Farbauti frowned at him. "But temporarily or not, you did rule over the folk of Asgard." Her lips curved upwards in a smile. "And you did it well. You will make an excellent permanent king one day."

Thor opened his mouth, fully intending to point out that _he_ was the crown prince, thank you very much, and while Loki would of course be his most trusted advisor, the Queen of Jotunheim could hardly interfere in the succession of Asgard. Then Frigga, who hadn't mothered him for over a thousand years without learning a thing or two, kicked him under the table. Thor glared at her, brows drawing together. Frigga just smiled beatifically, gave a little shake of her head. Thor scowled.

"I thank you." Loki was forced to look at the jotun woman, forced to nod once.

That was when (thank the Nornir) the servants arrived bearing the first course. Thor had always preferred meats to salads, but he dug into his dish with aplomb. Anything was better than the horrible silence, than the conversations that took place beneath words.

As the elder prince of Asgard scarfed down his meal, he let his eyes flicker over everybody else. Farbauti, he noted, was a surprisingly dainty eater, cutting up her larger vegetables into tiny pieces before lifting them to her mouth. Laufey too behaved in a civilized manner. Thor had more than half expected him to stick his face into the plate and dig in like a dog would eat from its bowl. Loki was hunching over his meal, apparently completely absorbed by eating it. He'd taken a generous portion, partly because his shape-shifting made him prefer plant matter to animal, partly because time he spent eating was time he didn't spend making small talk with the frost giants.

Sitting in the same room as the frost giants was _not at all fun_, but not for the reasons he had anticipated. He hadn't been looking forward to politicking with them while his form was still that of a mortal, still almost powerless, but Thor had almost forgotten his weakness by now. It was by far the least disturbing thought in his head.

He shouldn't be able to see his brother—his strange, clever, beloved little brother—in the faces of their enemies. It was wrong, horribly wrong, and something in Thor's gut assured him that the resemblance was significant. He did not know how; his thoughts were scattered, repelling each other like magnets. A part of him was glad that he didn't know. That part had the nasty, uncomfortably prescient feeling that he really didn't _want_ to know.

It was Frigga whose voice penetrated the almost-silence in the hall. Turning to Farbauti, her head craned due to the difference in their heights, she asked, "How was your journey? The Bifrost can be disconcerting if you are not accustomed to it."

"It _was_ disconcerting," Farbauti parried, a wry half-smile twisting her lips. "Though it was not as painful as I had expected. I always imagined that being reduced to one's constituent particles and catapulted across the universe would be significantly less comfortable."

Frigga chuckled, serene as could be. Thor dropped his fork to gape at her, his mouth still full of half-chewed food. How could his mother laugh at a time like this? "Our engineers took great trouble to ensure that the journey is as comfortable as possible. We may be a warrior race, but that does not mean we seek out unnecessary pain."

"What fool would?" Farbauti asked. Her red eyes darted toward Thor, who had not moved since Frigga's laugh. A frown crossed the giantess's face. His own face burning, Thor shut his mouth with an audible click, renewed his chewing with vigor.

"I know not." She noticed Loki, who had also stopped eating. "You should eat more, my dear. Thor is right; you have become far too skinny during your time on the throne."

"All right." Loki lowered his gaze to his plate, still half-full with various greens.

Frigga shook her head, her expression a portrait of fond exasperation. "You have no idea how difficult it is to get him to eat," the Queen of Asgard confided to the Queen of Jotunheim. "When Loki truly cares about a project, he gives it his whole heart, often to his own detriment. I have sometimes resorted to hunting down in person with a dish full of his favorite morsels and refusing to leave until he has cleaned the plate."

The red eyes blinked oh-so-slowly. The gaze intensified, sifting through the other queen's soul. Finally Farbauti inclined her head, chin touching her upper chest, the diamond hanging on her forehead glinting with scattered light. "You take good care of him. Queen Frigga."

Frigga mirrored the gesture, bowing her own head. "Queen Farbauti."

Thor's mouth fell open again. At least he'd managed to swallow this time.

The women smiled.

"Did you know that Loki has written several books on magical theory?"

"Actually, yes. We do not have much inter-realm trade in Jotunheim, but our library has still managed to acquire three of his works."

Jotnar had a library? Jotnar could _read_?

And just like that, the wife of Odin and the wife of Laufey were chatting away like old friends. Apparently frost giants _did_ read, and Farbauti was quite well-read. She and Frigga had perused many of the same books. Soon they were swapping suggestions: "I've always thought that he was an excellent author…." "Have you read her other books? She's written an excellent treatise on dyeing…." "If you are interested in the cultures of Midgard, I would recommend some of their own works. They have recently developed a science called anthropology…."

Thor scarcely noticed when the servants (who seemed just as nonplussed by the sudden friendliness between the queens as Thor felt) took away the salads and served the next course, a piping hot stew that was one of his favorites. The prince wondered if he was hallucinating. He almost hoped that he was. Maybe when this dinner was finished he should pay a visit to Eir, see if he was still entirely sane. Oh, wait. Loki had already done that, and he had been declared sound of mind. That meant that his brother was probably not mad either. Unfortunately.

If Frigga and Farbauti had kept the conversation between themselves, the men might have spent the entire meal in silence. Sadly, that was not the case. "Loki, you are well read. Do you have any suggestions for Queen Farbauti?"

Thor's friends on Midgard would say that Loki looked like a deer caught in headlights. Not that Thor had seen a deer caught in headlights, but Darcy had demonstrated the expression for him and he found that it was easily comparable to the look that flashed across Loki's face for just half a second before he regained control of his emotions. He tried to make a joke of it: "As an author myself, I must of course recommend my own treatises." That was said with a dazzling smile.

"Of course," Laufey agreed. Loki started. "All things considered, I would enjoy reading your works as well. I have always believed that an astute reader can learn much about an author from his books."

That was it. Bad enough that frost giants had looked at Loki like that. Bad enough that frost giants looked like Loki. Bad enough that frost giants were sitting in Asgard eating dinner with the royal family as though they were _equals _and _allies_ and even _friends._ Now they wanted to _investigate_ his brother, to parse him, to dissect his soul? Not if Thor Odinson had anything to do with it!

The crown prince of Asgard laid down his fork and knife with rather more force than was necessary. "Why are you so interested in my brother?"

Subtlety had never been Thor's strong suit.

Laufey shrugged. Once again, his expression—laconically amused that he knew something which another did not—reminded Thor far too much of Loki. That, of course, just served to make him angrier. He sent out another call to Mjolnir. "That is for Odin Allfather to tell you. Or perhaps you will let him find out on his own in the most traumatic way possible?" The amusement vanished from his face.

Odin's eye narrowed. "I had always planned to tell him when the time was right."

Laufey snorted. "I am sure you did."

Thor had the feeling that they were not talking about him anymore.

Laufey was not dressed in the short kilt of a warrior. He had dressed up for this dinner, loose trousers tucked into boots and a fur vest across his otherwise bare chest. A heavy gold-and-jade torc hung around his neck; his arms were weighed down with shining bejeweled bands. Yet his posture, leaning forward, inviting battle, made it clear that his attire would hardly hinder him should he choose to attack. Jotnar could conjure armor and weapons of ice at a moment's notice; Laufey would be well protected if he lunged across the table and tried to strangle Odin. Thor sent out yet another desperate plea to Mjolnir.

The door opened. Despite himself, Thor turned towards the source of the noise. Servants were wheeling the next course, an enormous roc stuffed with and surrounded by apple slices. The first man entered with his back to the room, partly to guide the cart and partly because he wanted to pretend he wasn't serving frost giants for as long as possible. Temptation won out fairly quickly, though, and he peeked over his shoulder to witness a truly terrifying sight: Odin and Laufey leaning across the table and glaring daggers at one another, Loki and the queens ready to jump into action, Thor in his full armor clutching his dinner knife like it was a real weapon.

That servant froze. The other servant, however, couldn't see over the enormous roc. He continued to push the cart, which knocked into the first servant, crushing his foot. The first man let out an involuntary yelp.

Everyone, even the belligerent kings, turned to stare at him.

The poor servant turned a truly remarkable shade of red. He ducked his head, clutched at his foot. "I am sorry, Your Majesties. I am—I am sorry." He swallowed hard. "Very sorry. Extremely sorry. I did not—I am sorry!"

"An honest mistake," Frigga assured him. "Now go get medical attention for your poor foot."

The servant's head snapped up, his expression one of pathetic relief. "Yes! That is—I thank you, Queen Frigga." He bowed so deeply that he nearly fell over before half-hopping, half-sprinting from the room.

A few weeks ago, Thor would have continued his verbal assault right away, but his time on Midgard had taught him much. Not enough to lift Mjolnir, unfortunately, but he had the decency to wait until the terrified waiters had left before demanding, "Is this part of the treaty?" Diplomacy could go and hang itself; he wanted to know why the world had turned upside down.

"Not quite," Frigga explained, "though it did grow out of the new truce terms. I thought that, all things considered, Odin and I should probably get to know King Laufey and Queen Farbauti."

Thor glanced left at his father; Odin's expression made it clear that yup, this was indeed his wife's idea. Or maybe he was just still angry about whatever Laufey had referenced.

"As should Loki," rumbled Laufey. The red eyes were narrowed to slits. "He has far too many misconceptions about our kind."

Loki became very interested in his portion of roc meat.

"Then what am I doing here?" Thor snapped. "Did you want to gawk at the disgraced prince of Asgard?"

"I requested your presence." Loki looked up from his meal, eyes hard. "I wanted moral support for a very trying and difficult… situation." He very pointedly did not glance over at the jotnar. "Clearly Eir missed something while she was inspecting me for signs of madness."

"Nonsense, brother," Thor argued. "It is natural to want one's siblings nearby. Whatever is going on here, family must stick together."

Dead silence. Five horrified gazes gawked at him, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. At any other time, Thor might have been amused to see such an expression on Laufey's face, but he was mortal and vulnerable and had no idea what was going on, but he really didn't want to cause another inter-realm incident (he had a feeling that Frigga just might kill him if he did), so he managed to refrain from laughing. That, and he couldn't have laughed anyways, being too 'freaked out,' as the Midgard expression went, by everything that was happening.

He had the nasty feeling that he'd said something wrong.

"I never thought I would say this," Laufey growled, "but Prince Thor is right. Family _should _stick together, should it not, Allfather?"

Loki gave a low moan.

"That is why we are supporting Loki in this," Odin replied, cold as the frozen wastes from which his guests hailed.

Loki moaned again.

Laufey leapt to his feet, face dark with fury. "You dare?" he roared.

Loki muttered an exceptionally foul and creative curse.

And then Laufey was lunging for Odin, hands outstretched, and Gungnir had appeared in the Allfather's hands just in time to ward off a sliver of knife-sharp ice, and everyone had gotten to their feet, and Thor was swinging his plate at Laufey's head—

"ENOUGH!"

—and then Thor was _cold_, his entire body paralyzed in mid-swing, his plate less than a finger's breadth from the jotun king's head. Ice wreathed his body, covering everything but his nostrils, eyes, and ears. Odin and Laufey were in a similar state, the latter's weight resting on two thick columns of ice that sprouted from the table. The roc meat, Thor noted absently, had been completely ruined by freezer burn. A pity, that. He liked roc meat, and they didn't have much of it on Midgard.

"Is that the Casket of Ancient Winters?" Frigga asked, startled. Thor could see her out of the corner of his eye, surprised and curious and a little bit disapproving. He wanted to look, but his head was frozen in place and he could see neither hide nor hair of his brother. Thank you, Loki.

"Yes," Loki grunted.

"Stop." There was an odd catch in Farbauti's voice. That same strange longing. "Do not put it away yet." Then, so quietly that Thor could barely hear it, "Please." Her voice actually quivered.

The ice flowed away from Laufey's frame. Of course it did—he was a frost giant, he could control frozen water even more easily than Thor could wield thunder and lightning. His gifts did not depend on a hammer; they were innate, woven into his very bones.

Thor strained against the ice encasing him, cursing the weakness of his mortal form. Laufey was free, he had tried to attack Father, couldn't Loki see that he had to be defeated? Why wasn't he pressing his advantage?

"I'll freeze you again if you try anything," the younger prince threatened.

But Laufey wasn't trying anything. He was just drawing back, moving out of Thor's limited line of sight. Before he vanished entirely, though, the elder prince observed that once again, Laufey's face was filled with that strange combination of longing and pain he and Farbauti had worn while looking at Loki.

"Look at him, Laufey," Farbauti whispered. She gave a tiny laugh that sparkled like airborne snowflakes, all joyous and disbelieving. "_Look at him._"

"I am looking, Wife."

Thor redoubled his struggles. He tried to speak, but the ice around his jaw was too strong. _Why were Laufey and Farbauti obsessively looking at his brother?_

"Patience, Thor," Loki ordered, voice tight with strain. "I will let you out—I will let both of you out—if you promise to behave."

And how was he supposed to promise anything with his mouth sealed shut? Oh. Loki had thought of that already. The ice around his jaw retreated, leaving him free to speak.

"I _was_ the one attacked," Odin pointed out mildly.

"I am aware of that," Loki grumbled, "but he escaped on his own."

"I will not attack unless attacked first." Surprisingly, that came from Laufey. Was it just Thor's imagination, or were there _tears_ in his tone? "You have my word…. Loki."

"And mine," Odin agreed.

"Thor?"

"…And mine."

"Excellent," Loki muttered.

The ice vanished, sublimated into the atmosphere as though it had never been. Thor overbalanced, nearly fell into the ruined remnants of the roc dish. The freezer burn was truly horrific, he noted. Perfectly good meat gone to waste. Volstagg would be in tears.

Someone knocked on the door, small and hesitant. "Come in," Odin called, settling into his seat.

The servant who had refilled Laufey's wine poked his pale, sweaty head in. He observed the ruined roc, Gungnir still sparking with energy, the spilled victuals, the ice that Loki had not yet banished. The poor man's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. To his credit, though, his voice did not tremble, though his body shook like an autumn leaf. "Is there anything Your Majesties desire?"

For some reason, Loki seemed almost afraid of the servant. The younger prince's eyes were just as wide, his face tinged an unhealthy gray-green. "…I believe we will start on the next course now."

"Of course." The waiter's head bobbed up and down, up and down. "Of course, Prince Loki. I will inform the kitchens immediately. Is there… anything else?"

_Yes,_ Thor wanted to say. _Sanity. An explanation. Things to go back to normal. Mjolnir. The frost giants to leave. This farce to _end_._

Frigga's answer was a great deal more politic. "Perhaps, Hrossketil, you could send in the musicians now."

"Of course, my queen." Up and down, up and down. Thor thought of a bobble head which Jane kept in her room. Hrossketil bore an uncanny resemblance to that little toy, despite not being a human scientist with wild white hair and a mustache. It was the way his neck moved, as loose and free as the joint of the tiny Einstein.

"There are musicians nearby?" Loki asked, annoyed.

"I intended to bring them out during dessert," Frigga explained. "But I think it would be wiser to let them play now."

"A good idea, Queen Frigga," Farbauti commented.

"One would think, yes."

The servants were, if possible, even more reticent to enter the room than they had been before. Thor couldn't blame them. _He _didn't want to be here either. At least the servants could escape back into the kitchens.

He never thought that the prince of Asgard would envy the kitchen staff….

Their plates were salvageable, though only barely, and the servants were forced to bring out an entirely new set of cutlery and serving ware before they could come in with the cold course, meats and some uncooked fruits and cheeses and breads. If their hands trembled as they reset the table, well, Thor didn't comment on it. He could hardly blame the poor things, especially Hrossketil, who had to refill Laufey's glass again.

The musicians were even worse than the servants. The fiddler trembled so badly that his instrument squealed; the piper's flute warbled and frequently ran out of air; the drummer kept twitching. It was not one of their better performances. Still, however discordant the music might have been, it prevented anyone from talking, and the cold course passed quite peacefully. Well, no one snarled at anyone else or tried to strangle the hosts, so Thor counted it as a diplomatic success. Music soothed the savage beast indeed.

Desserts were brought in. Thor thought again of Midgard, of a treat they served there. Ice cream, it was called. Jane preferred it in cones, though it could be eaten in bowls as well. The jotnar would have liked it, he thought. So would Loki. He'd always been inexplicably fond of colder food, of cold things in general. Thor made a mental note to bring some back after his banishment was over.

These desserts were not ice cream, but the jotnar still seemed to enjoy them. Thor did too, but he only picked at them, not wanting to take his eyes off the 'guests.' What in the Nine Realms was going on here? He tried to connect his scattered his thoughts, to plot his data into a picture, but his brain failed him. Something—perhaps the knowledge that he really, really didn't like whatever conclusion his subconscious had reached—kept him from solving the puzzle.

Not that he didn't keep trying.

The fiddle broke. Its player froze, staring in mute horror at his snapped string. He shot a wild glance at Laufey, who had turned to frown at the discordant note, and fainted dead away.

Thor winced, embarrassed on the fiddler's behalf—and on the behalf of Asgard. How could they keep the frost giants from invading if a mere frown from their king was enough to make an As faint like one of those ridiculous little goats Jane had shown him on the YouTube?

"Allfather. What kinds of tales have you been spreading about my people that could cause such a reaction?"

"Not I," Odin protested mildly. "I was not the only one to march on Jotunheim. Not even a king can keep his subjects from talking."

Laufey scowled. The drummer whimpered.

Then the jotun's face smoothed, grew almost pleasant in expression. "A pity that the string broke," he said mildly. "I was enjoying the music. It reminded me of our courtship, Farbauti."

The other jotun grinned, clearly fighting back a laugh. "Would you like to tell the tale, Husband, or should I?"

Once again, Laufey gazed at Loki. Thor's irritation swelled. Why. Were. They. _Doing_. That?! "That depends. You are better at formal tellings than I."

"We have no chorus," Farbauti reminded him, "and I doubt that Prince Thor would appreciate snow shapes. And the audience is not large enough anyways."

Laufey smiled. For a moment, he didn't look like a frost giant. For a moment, Thor could imagine that the jotun king was a man, not a monster. Then he realized what he was thinking and shuddered. It was the resemblance to Loki, he told himself, a resemblance that was probably some kind of trick. He couldn't think of what that trick might be, but that was the only logical explanation.

When Laufey spoke, he spoke (surprise, surprise) to Loki alone. "Farbauti and I were still young, not even a millennium, when we began courting…."

What followed was a tale both funny and disturbing: funny because though the then-prince had thought himself so clever for sneaking out disguised as a member of Mother-Clan Nyok and Father-Clan Enyi (whatever those were) and had only later discovered that everyone had known his identity all along and disturbing because it was funny. The tale reminded Thor of shenanigans which he and Loki had gotten up to for most of their lives. His mind skirted away from the implications.

When Laufey-and-Farbauti-in-the-tale found out that everyone in the music hall they had snuck into, every single person from the fiddler to the garrulous stranger who had kept encouraging the couple to dance, had been trying to matchmake them all along, Thor heard a sound which hadn't graced his ears in almost two years. Loki laughed, not the sarcastic chuckle of a prank well done but a genuinely amused chortle. His laughter mingled with that of Frigga and Farbauti. Laufey paused his tale, smug and delighted.

Loki silenced himself before the queens. "My apologies. I did not intend to interrupt."

"I do not mind." Laufey shrugged his huge shoulders. "The tale is at an end anyways."

"This one is," Farbauti corrected. "Tradition demands a telling for a telling, a tale for a tale. Frigga, can you think of anything you could tell in return?"

"A few things, Farbauti." The Queen of Asgard gave a little smirk.

Odin raised his eyebrow at her. Was it just Thor's imagination, or did he look a bit embarrassed? And since when were his mother and the Queen of Jotunheim on first-name terms?

"I am reminded of something," Frigga confessed, "but we made a pact long ago to never speak of it again."

Odin actually winced.

"However, when Thor was little, we arranged for a tutor to teach him to fiddle…."

It was Thor's turn to wince. His fiddling lessons had… not gone well. "Mother, I hardly see how that is relevant."

"A tale for a tale, Thor."

She had to be punishing him for trying to bash Laufey's head in with a plate. That was the only explanation.

It was a testament to how much Thor had grown that he kept his mouth shut during Frigga's tale. The jotnar were _laughing_ at him (Mjolnir, why do you not come? Why must I be made to suffer so?), his mother was acting like they were _friends,_ something was wrong with his beloved baby brother, and, most horribly of all, _the jotnar were laughing at him._ It took all the prince's willpower to refrain from going after Laufey with another plate.

Then, finally, thankfully, _finally_ it was over. The frost giants and Aesir pushed themselves away from the table, stomachs full, tales told.

Thank the Nornir.

Except it wasn't over, not really, because Loki was walking towards the frost giants, small and pale compared to their blue bulk. "Please, allow me to escort you to the Bifrost."

"Brother," Thor began.

"I will be fine, Thor." Loki's shoulders stiffened, his head held high.

_But you're not fine,_ Thor wanted to say. He wanted to point out how quiet Loki had been, how thin and pale, how the dark circles under his eyes made his face look like bone or snow. Loki was obviously ill or suffering or both, and Thor really didn't want to leave him alone with their enemies while he was in such a vulnerable state. Especially since those enemies were so unnaturally fascinated with him.

Something tickled at the back of Thor's mind. He tried to grasp it, but it dissipated like a handful of unpacked snowflakes.

The second the frost giants and Loki were gone, Thor whirled around, faced his parents. "What was that?" he demanded. His feet slammed into the floor as he began to pace. "Why are they obsessed with Loki? What were they doing here? Why did we have to eat with them? And why, Mother, did you call the female by name? What is going on?!" He flung his hands into the air.

"'The female' has a name, Thor," his mother chided.

"Yes, yes, Farbauti." Thor shook his head, golden hair flying. "That doesn't matter. What is—what is wrong? What happened?" Whatever it was, it filled his heart with an emotion he hadn't felt since Nornheim but had experienced on and off throughout the dinner.

"We are attempting to heal, or at least ameliorate, centuries of mistakes towards the frost giants," Odin explained. Sorrow made him look his age. "And towards your brother." That was said so quietly that Thor knew he wasn't supposed to have heard it at all.

"Thor." Frigga rested a hand on her son's shoulder. "Loki is going through a very trying time right now. That is why he requested permission for you to return, if only for a single night. He has been… under a great deal of strain, and it does not help that he misses you more than he cares to admit. He needs his brother and his brother's love."

"It would be easier to give both if I were not banished to Midgard."

She frowned, and something in that expression reminded Thor why Odin Allfather, King of Asgard, had chosen this normally mild woman as his wife. "Your behavior tonight proves that you need the banishment. I love you, my son. Never doubt that. But you need to grow."

"You cannot help or support Loki as you are now," Odin added.

The tension drained from Thor's shoulders. He slumped, defeated. "What is going on?" he whispered, no longer expecting an answer. "Loki is hurt. He is suffering." A scowl. "Because of the frost giants?" If this was their fault, no force in the Nine Realms would keep him from revenge.

"It is nothing that they did," Odin answered, "and there is no enemy for you to hunt down and battle. The best thing you can do for Loki is to come home as quickly as possible, to change yourself into a better man. Now come. You need to get changed before returning to Midgard."

Thor barely noticed their return to his chambers, paid no attention as he changed into his jeans and shirt. Distracted as he was, he buttoned himself up incorrectly, much to Frigga's amusement. The three eldest members of the royal family made their way to the Bifrost in silence.

Heimdall was waiting for them. "They have no left," he announced.

Thor's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He leapt off his horse, adrenalin surging through his veins. Laufey had been in there for who-knew-how-long with Loki; Loki, with whom he was fascinated, whom he looked at so intently—

Strong hands gripped his shoulders, stopped him in his tracks. "No, Thor," his father growled.

"Prince Loki is unharmed," Heimdall assured him. "The jotnar merely wished to speak with him in private. They want him to come to Jotunheim."

"Out of the question until Loki is ready," Frigga announced, not leaving room for argument. "Now, does he need time to… compose himself… before we go in?"

"Prince Loki is as composed as always."

"Then announce us," Odin ordered.

Heimdall gave a low bow, retreated into his sanctuary. Moments later, the Bifrost whirled. High-pitched buzzing assaulted Thor's ears, made him wince. For the first time, he was glad of his mortal form's weaker senses.

The Bifrost fired, sending Laufey and his queen across the universe. Thor watched the blaze of rainbow light (was it just his imagination, or was there a bit more blue in it than usual?) disappear into the heavens. The prince slumped with relief, tension draining from his body.

They were gone.

"Mother… Father…."

"Come, Thor." Odin entered the transportation room.

Loki leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, his fists clenched. He breathed heavily, the cords in his neck bulging. A tiny tremor wracked his frame.

"Brother?"

And then Loki was Loki again, smooth and calm and so convincingly all right that Thor almost wondered if he'd imagined his brother's earlier despair. "Yes, Thor?"

Thor opened his mouth, tried to speak. He couldn't. Laufey's tale, Farbauti speaking with Frigga, the servants with the roc…. "What is going on?"

"Many years ago," Odin sighed, "I mistook a normal ritual for something much less wholesome. Now I know better."

Well, that explained exactly nothing.

"Brother, do you have anything to add?"

Loki blinked. Blinked again. Tilted his head, a pensive expression crossing his face. He lifted a finger to his lips, tapped three times. "Hm…. Actually, there is."

Thor perked up. Finally, an explanation! "What is it?"

"I did appreciate your presence, brother, but you tried to murder the king of Jotunheim with a plate. Next time we have dinner with them, you will not be invited."

The Bifrost activated. Thor dissolved, was flung to the farthest reaches of the universe.

"I told you he'd be back now," Darcy Lewis crowed as Thor pushed himself to his feet. The New Mexico sands were still warm, digging into his palms.

"No," Erik Selvig corrected her, "you said that half an hour ago."

"Thor!" Jane grabbed him by the arm. "Are you all right?"

Thor brushed the dirt from his pants, nodded. "I am well." Then Loki's words finally penetrated his brain. The prince's eyes bugged out, nearly fell from their sockets. He whirled on his heels, gaze lifted towards the sky.

"_What do you mean, 'next time'?_!?"

* * *

Frigga and the sweater: In the myths, she did a lot of spinning. I figure, she has to do something with all that spun wool, so she knits, crochets, etc. Because why not?

Thor's music lessons: In Greek/Roman myths, Heracles/Hercules was forced to take music lessons. He ended up beaning his tutor over the head with the instrument, thereby killing him. Thor's lessons weren't quite so bad, but they came pretty close.

The idea behind this one-shot is there's a bunch of elephants in the room, and Thor knows that, but he doesn't know where the elephants came from or why they're there. Also, dramatic irony is fun to write. My point is, the _idea _of this fic is to show Thor's confusion. Maybe I'll write more scenes in this universe of sane!not-evil!Loki later. I have a couple of ideas...

-Antares


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